There seems to be much reference to fowl in these Chinese calendrical titles, and I feel that the past couple of weeks my responses have been somewhat lacking. This is mainly because the amount of fowl I see out here in Cambridge is limited to the flocks of brown sparrows, and occasionally a blue-jay. These posts remind me that I am indeed in an urban environment, and many of the creatures may have long ago abandoned this place in search of greener, cleaner pastures out in the country.
Today is the autumnal equinox--and what a beautiful day I believe it will turn out to be! The mists hung over the lawns this morning, permeating through the neighborhood. While I took my morning jog, I was reminded how I have always loved these mists of autumn--the way they cast the morning into a gentle grey, and how, when touched with sunlight they seem like fading gossamer.
Although the temperature changes day by day, the hints of autumn have truly begun at last. Trees in the Harvard Yard are beginning to be tinged with slight hues of yellows, oranges and reds. The leaves on smaller shrubs have turned as well, beginning to scatter the ground with their leaves. The birds and squirrels seem hard at work, eating as much of the little grains and nuts as they can. I wonder--will the birds leave us too, by and by?
This past weekend I chanced upon an event to 'Welcome in Autumn.' We stood on the banks of the Charles River in the fading light of day, singing unknown and yet seemingly familiar songs. They were songs that could appeal to everyone, both young and old. Standing there, I was struck almost to tears; at the goodness and relative simplicity of man that is often so long forgotten. It was like a slip back in time, when the power of song and singing together was a form of entertainment and camaraderie. There, on the lawn, sat old, the young, and the very young. Some dancing, some singing, some laughing, some saying nothing at all. It was a moment that truly made me love where I live.
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